


i'll save you (a piece of pie)

by shakespearespaz



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Pie, Telepathy, Whump, a rare, and i don't mean the doc they are just literal time children in kindergarden, maybe a little, nonconsensual telepathy, snowball earth, the master is preoccupied with getting an afternoon snack, the tone of this is all over the place, there is some implications for heavier stuff bc that and these two go hand in hand, this is ultimately pure shipper gooeyness, we've also got some
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearespaz/pseuds/shakespearespaz
Summary: The TARDIS and the Doctor find the Master and the timing is either really, really good or really, really bad.AKA the Master saves the Doc but not really, because that's totally not how she's gonna tell it later AKA me trying to write the Master as the chaotic bastard they are but also knowing they're weak for the Doc let's be real.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 175





	i'll save you (a piece of pie)

She was watching Earth turn into a snowball. Literally.

Speeding up time to view massive celestial events was a neat trick she’d picked up at the Academy. It was definitely discouraged, as it was kinda the TARDIS equivalent of doing doughnuts in the parking lot. That didn’t stop overeager young Time Lords with a deep-seated need for adrenaline and too much time on their hands. Instead of bringing the TARDIS to a specific place and time, or hanging out in the time stream, they would simply slow the path of the TARDIS through time and space as they approached their target. They would hover in limbo, skipping in and out of existence. In this way she’d seen galaxies live and die in minutes, and the entire human history of the earth go by in an hour, as she watched their electric lights take over even the darkest corners before disappearing again.

The Doctor sat on the ledge, her “Universe’s #1 Dad” mug full of tea in hand, and watched as hundreds of thousands of years painted the Earth white with snow and ice. She couldn’t wait to watch it thaw, for then the atmosphere would be truly oxygenated enough for greenery to coat the surface.

She never got that far. An alarm from the console pulled her away.

“What now, old girl? I just did an overhaul of your sub-aqueous circuitry. I know, I know, I’m sorry I let the algae get that bad! Wait, I know! Nah, my pecan pie can’t be done yet. In fact, I don’t even think I remember to set a timer.” She sniffed the air. “Doesn’t smell like it’s burning yet.”

She swung around the console, finally locating the source of the alarm. She froze, hands gripping the warm metal, as her hearts sped up. The Master.

“You…you found him,” she said breathlessly to her ship.

The alarm stopped, but she could not bring herself to look at the coordinates her ship had produced for her. She suddenly didn’t know if she wanted to do this, if she wanted to know.

A gust of space wind caught her off guard, slamming the TARDIS doors against the frame.

“Oh no, the doors! Sorry!” she shouted to her most faithful companion, “Again!”

She ran to close them, before the wind disturbed the various projects she had strewn around the place. The fam had wanted some time alone, and she had let her engineering and poetry writing projects spill into the console room instead of keeping them contained in their appropriate corners of the TARDIS. Her mind was having trouble finishing one thing before she moved onto the next.

She hastened back over to the controls. She took a deep breath in and held her finger over the proper dial. One quick spin and she could send a message, or even set their path directly to him.

“Doctor.”

She jerked her head up. There was man in her TARDIS. It was not one she recognized. He wasn't far from the door, and the first thing she noticed were his dark colored clothes. Next, she noticed the belt around his waist, full of weapons she could not immediately identify. This man was not meant to be seen until he wanted to be seen.

“Hi, can I help you?” she asked, “In most galaxies it’s considered rude to enter someone’s ship without permission.”

“Oh, but you gave me permission. Long ago.”

“Funny, I don’t recall. And I think I’d remember you. Tend to remember a lack of manners.”

“How many ships have you entered without permission, Doctor?”

She shifted slightly, so she could feel the weight of her sonic in her pocket. The TARDIS would have automatically disabled any guns, but there were powers and weapons it couldn’t stop.

“You see, that’s doubly rude. Entering without an invite _and_ insulting your host.”

_Hypocrite._

Without warning his words were in her head, and they burned. It confirmed what she’d feared, from the moment she saw him. A being powerful enough to enter her ship as it was skipping in and out of the time stream would absolutely be accompanied by additional skills like telepathy.

“What do you want?” she spat at him.

He smiled, and she didn’t like the cord it struck in her. It was a new cord, and one that made her feel both powerless and livid.

_You._

He shoved the word into her brain, the intention and menace leaving her short of breath. He moved swiftly and silently towards her, and she catapulted into action too, although her hands shook and she could still feel his presence in her mind, stalking her, as he closed in.

She couldn’t think and so she didn’t, reaching for the dial. She could handle this herself, she was sure, for she’d handled worse. But the thought that if he could come, he would, gave her a tiniest bit of desperately needed hope back.

A few quick twists and the message was sent.

She ducked but wasn’t quick enough, a hand closing around her arm. His hatred filled her mind, and she couldn’t stomach the depth of his disgust.

_You’re going to pay for what you did to my planet._

\--

The Master had literally just gotten home. He’d made it back to his own dimension, back to his very own TARDIS, back to his own couch and his own sock collection.

He’d have his revenge on the Doctor and her expendables. First, though, he’d have a snack.

He didn’t get that far.

His controls beeped incessantly, indicating an incoming message. He expected a lot of missed calls after spending what felt like eons in an alternative hell dimension, but this call had just arrived. He immediately recognized the call sign from the ship that sent it.

It was her. Her message was simple.

**HELP**

Two thoughts clouded his mind. First, that it was very likely a trap she’d laid for him. Second, that he would absolutely be going. He couldn’t help his excitement, his anticipation. He had all the time in the universe, but why waste it. He changed into a clean purple suit and clean socks and set his course. With a TARDIS that was in perfect shape, he was there instantly.

He strolled out to his front porch.

The blue box floated above Earth on a Tuesday 722 million years before humans ever set foot on the planet. The Doctor was so predictable. She could travel through all of time and space but seemed to spend 97% of it on one primitive, unimpressive planet.

The scene before him was wrong though, sending goosebumps across his skin and a rare wave of dread through his gut.

Her shields were down. The evidence was strengthening for a trap, but that thought didn’t give him pause. He always looked forward to their games, even more so now that he had the upper hand, for smart as his Doctor was, she would not figure out Gallifrey and the Timeless Child without him.

Getting there was easy enough, as he gently encompassed her TARDIS within his own shields. He tapped his pocket, made sure that he had his favorite weapon of choice there, and stepped across.

The fool hadn’t even locked her door.

He pushed it open and stepped inside the ship he knew almost as well as his own. The place was a mess—papers and electrical experiments and mugs with horrible puns on them half full of tea.

And _her_.

The wrongness was more than a feeling. She was on the floor, blue coat pooling beneath her, head at an unnatural angle, and a man stood at the console, back to the door and to the Master.

The fear that struck him was greater than when he’d been unceremoniously dumped into the realm of the Kasaavin, more than when he was murdered by himself, and almost as much as when he learned the dirty secrets of the Time Lords. Any impulse control he had left dissipated.

“Hey!” he barked at the strange figure, “That’s my archnemesis you’ve got there, and she doesn’t like it when people touch her ship.”

The man turned, and the Master almost thought he recognized him. 

_She and the ship are mine now._

He was not prepared for nonconsensual telepathic communication. The words reverberated in his head, but he fought back.

_Maybe we want the same thing. Maybe I can help you._

The Master stepped forward with his telepathic offer. The man countered, inching away from the console.

_Trust a Time Lord?_

He switched back into the realm of flesh and words.

“You and she have much more of a sense of humor than the rest of your species.”

The Master laughed, fake.

“We try. Why do you want her?”

The man in black spared a moment to glance down at her unmoving form on the ground.

“I’m bringing her to justice. Her actions destroyed my planet, and we want our revenge. _I_ want my revenge.”

“I’m with you there,” the Master moved closer still, a grin breaking across his face, “I’m in the market for revenge myself. But if you take her away, you understand, I don’t get that revenge. See my problem? And also is it just maybe a tiny, _tiny_ bit possible that when she destroyed your planet, that you maybe, _maybe_ deserved it?”

_No._

The man went back into his mind, turning to face the console.

_Master._

Her words crackled through his brain. She was different in his mind, gentler and clearer and with a familiar energy that could only be described as the Doctor’s.

_I knew your name would finally get your attention._

She was doing a really good job of playing dead or at least unconscious. She definitely wasn’t though, and he berated himself for not sensing it the moment he’d stepped on the ship. He was too wrapped up in his own fear and conclusions, but it was clear as day. It was hard to quiet a mind that active.

_Doctor, keep it down. I could hear you from Saturn._

She didn’t listen to him, as usual.

_He can’t drive the ship. I need you to distract him._

“Alright, trespasser, let’s make a deal.”

The man twisted his face back to the Master.

“I don’t think you can fly this ship. If you let me do what I need to do first, then I’ll fly you back to your destroyed planet, and she’s all yours.”

The Doctor was not pleased.

_Oi! Don’t sell me out!_

_Hush, you fool._

The man seemed to be considering it, but doubt was still written across his face.

“You can’t kill her. I need her alive.”

“Trust me, killing her is last thing I want to do.”

_Get him away from the console._

_I know what I’m doing, Doctor!_

_Well, you’re making poor progress and keep threatening me in the process._

_Quiet!_

_I knew I couldn’t trust Time Lords._

Suddenly, the man in black was in both their heads. The Master’s head instantly entered a vice, like someone had just decked him in the middle of a conversation. In their three way exchange he could feel her pain too. It was hot, like a fire that he was only standing a few feet away from. If he focused on the heat, he thought that in the flames he could see images, grotesque thoughts the man was using to torment her. 

The man in black did something in her mind, and she convulsed on the floor, pulling her knees tightly to her chest.

Whatever else was happening in his head, the Master knew one thing. He needed to move quickly. He needed to get to man before he got to her. He took two wide steps across the floor and moved his hand into his jacket. The man in black lunged for the Doctor and was an inch away when the Master won.

The intruder dropped to the floor, tiny, as the Master’s outstretched hand was left holding the tissue compressor. The relief was instant. As the pressure let up, he felt like he could finally sense his surroundings properly.

The Doctor was still on the floor, crumpled. His mind was clear, but the Master couldn't breathe.

She finally moved, rolling toward him and pushing herself carefully up to a sitting position, shoulders still hunched. Her eyes glistened and tracks on her cheeks betrayed past tears. He froze as she looked up at him with those wide eyes. They were different than the shocked eyes that had watched him on the plane or the vicious ones in Paris. Her eyes read relief, and something else he could not name. They were the eyes of a friend.

“You’re alive,” she breathed.

He had lost count of the hours he had spent dreaming up what he would say to her face when he saw her again, what he would do to her, what he could do next to raise the stakes in their petty games. Beyond that look of relief, he finally figured out what else he saw.

She was lost.

It all made sense—the messy TARDIS, her on her own, her sheer stupidity in calling her worst enemy for help. For the first time in a long while, there was no room in his soul for his burning hatred, only the smug reproach of an old friend.

“You’re _barely_ alive,” he countered.

He sank down to her level, and the concern came pouring out of him.

“How did he even get in here? Were you time stream skipping? You idiot, you know that drains power from the TARDIS shields. Actually, you probably don’t know that, because you failed your piloting test. The sheer, blundering _stupidity_ of leaving yourself exposed above a high profile planet when you don’t even know your own history—”

He stopped himself, because he could sense the change. Her eyes hardened.

“My own history? Why don’t you tell me my own history, _Master_.” Her voice was scathing, mocking, scared but not giving an inch. “That man knew me, knew me from a past you won’t tell me about. A past where I hurt him. And now he was here, in my head. He came at me, and I didn’t know what he wanted.”

She swallowed, the memory still fresh.

“He was _in my_ _head_ ,” she repeated.

The Master knew the fear that read in her eyes, residual from that moment. He remembered it from Missy. It was a vulnerability unlike anything he’d felt before, one not felt on Gallifrey. On other planets, in certain other societies, it was inescapable.

She scrambled to her feet, as did he. She kept her distance, but was unsteady, tilting towards him.

“And now, you’ve killed someone who would’ve had answers for me. Since I know you’ll never give them.”

“Well, I’m sorry for saving you.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head defiantly.

“No, you didn’t save me. I had this handled.”

He scoffed. The Doctor would never change.

“Can’t let someone else be the hero for a single moment, can you?”

“You’re no hero.”

“Neither are you.”

“At least I _try._ You don’t want to be the hero _.”_

She turned away from him, aiming for the last word in their childish disagreement.

“I was going to tell you!” That caused her head to snap back to him. “I’d written the whole speech—well, written it in my head at least. I had it all planned. But you—you _never_ follow the plan, do you?”

“I—”

A loud ding echoed through the TARDIS. The Doctor’s small face morphed from anger to confusion to realization.

“My pie! My pecan pie. I did set a timer!”

Her wide smile wiped away the pain that had been furrowed across her brow only moments before. He took a subtle whiff. Her TARDIS did have a wonderful smell of brown sugar and cinnamon. She raced into the back hallway.

The Master was tempted.

He could steal the ship, and her, and begin his 38-point revenge plan. She’d left the heart of her ship unguarded. Having just watched her nearly kidnapped and tortured though, the image didn’t strike quite the same cord in him as he had imagined it would.

She reentered, proudly displaying something that from a great distance or in a very low resolution photograph might pass for pie.

“I didn’t even burn it that much!”

He decided he would give her a brief break, and maybe get some pie in the process. He never had gotten his snack.

She stood watching him, her hands buried in oven mitts shaped like a moose, holding her pie.

“How about you sit down and have some tea with me?” she offered, “And maybe, _maybe_ you could tell me a little about Gallifrey.”

He took her in, the poorly baked pie, the smile that had appeared so quickly, the joy and pain and multiple lifetimes that had been compacted so recently into this new, small form. He nodded.

“This isn’t peace, you know,” he said.

“I know.”

“It’s a brief pause. You’re far too annoying and well-meaning to keep as a friend.”

“But maybe as an enemy?” she suggested.

“Maybe.”

“For today, though,” she said, shoving a stack of truly terrible rhyming couplets off her seat, as the Master moved what looked like a prototype automatic pickle jar opener off his seat, “Let’s have a _peace_ of pie.”

The Master rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck.

“You are—”

“—on thin ice. I know, I know.” She looked up at him, mischievous. “That’s where I operate best.”

The Master's Doctor, for not the first time, was right. He’d get her back for it later.


End file.
